


How a Bad Birthday Became the Best

by CryptTheCryptid



Series: Gifts to the Server [16]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aftercare, College AU, Da boys in art school, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Left-Handed Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Lila Rossi Bashing, Long Hair Marc Anciel, M/M, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, She's never outright blamed but she's the bitch who did it, Trans Male Character, Trans Marc Anciel, but no sex, future setting, implied - Freeform, mentions of binding, normalize writing aftercare with no sex, soft moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:29:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28246950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CryptTheCryptid/pseuds/CryptTheCryptid
Summary: Marc was having a bad birthday.
Relationships: Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg
Series: Gifts to the Server [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884247
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31
Collections: MarcNath Fics!, Secret Santa 2020





	How a Bad Birthday Became the Best

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CinnakinCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnakinCat/gifts).



Marc was not ok, that was obvious to anyone who passed his little hiding spot under the stairs. The stairs that he was currently sobbing his eyes out under.

His day had started out normal enough, after almost sleeping through his alarm he rushed out of his dorm and only just made it to his noon class on time. It passed by like it always did with minor distractions, until the bell rang and the professor dismissed them. 

He had gone to his rented locker to change for swim class and - after making sure the locker room was empty - he quickly pulled off his shirt and binder, he opened his locker to fetch his swimming clothes but instead was practically buried under a pile of notecards.

At first he thought Nath sent them, so giggling he had picked up a handful and looked at them all.

Only one of them out of a stack of 100 was Nathaniel’s. His boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - couldn’t even wait until  _ after _ his birthday to declare he was dating Lila now, he could’ve at least said it to his face instead of just writing it down like a  _ coward _ . The other papers hurt as well, they were filled with slurs and names poking fun at his  _ situation _ .

Throwing back on his binder and shirt he blindly ran out of the locker room, tears blurring his vision, before ducking under the stairs.

Which led to now, as he frantically beat every akuma that came near him with a book. He must look pretty silly right now, his long hair falling from his messy bun and hanging around at his waist, his shirt wrinkled and creased despite having been ironed that morning, tear tracks running down his face as he slammed butterfly after butterfly into the wall,  _ when was Hawkmoth going to give up? It had been 6 years and he was still no closer to winning, you’d think he would call it quits at this point seeing as there were several hundred videos of ‘Akuma Flops’. _ Clearing his thoughts he went back to hitting the akuma’s like they were baseballs and he was Babe Ruth.

That was how Nathaniel found him.

“What do you want?” The writer spat, his acid tone startling the redhead.

“Marc? Why are you so angry?”

“Playing dumb now are we? Don't you remember  _ this _ and the other 99 notes you left in my locker.” He shoves the note into the artist’s face, who’s eyes cross as he tries to read it. Nathaniel carefully removes it from his grasp, examining it closer “Marc this isn’t my handwriting, I’m left-handed not right.”

Marc froze, grabbing the paper back and reaching for his phone; flipping through his photos before finding the one he was looking for - the first love letter Nathaniel had ever sent him - and holding them side-by-side to compare the hand writing. Internally Marc was banging his head against the wall, how could he call himself a writer if he couldn’t even tell his left-handed boyfriends writing apart from a - obviously right-handed - copycat.

Nathaniel luckily just chuckled at his ‘I done fucked up’ look and closed his jaw for him, kissing his cheek softly. 

“How about this, we go to your locker to get those other notes, go file a complaint to Headmaster Jameston, and relax in my dorm?”

Marc nodded mutely, following the redhead back up the stairs and into the Headmasters office, who promised to look into it and they were excused for the day, leaving Nathaniel to lead Marc to his bed and cover him in kisses. In between kisses reassuring words were murmured into his skin, over and over until Marc was able to recite them all front to back.

  
  
  


They remained like that till it was already dark, they stayed up drinking juice - and somehow managed to get drunk off it - before they decided trying to make gummy animals would be an amazing way to pass time.

Thirty minutes later Nathaniel successfully made Marc forget about the events from earlier today as they tried to clean up the mess they made, careful not to knock over their successful batch from where it was perched precariously on the edge of the counter. They giggled as they wiped up the sugar and gelatin powder, stealing kisses and licking the flavored syrup off one another's lips.

After the kitchen was successfully cleaned and the gummies were eaten Nathaniel swifty swung Marc over his shoulder ignoring the ravenette’s half-hearted protests in favor of carrying him to the bedroom and throwing him onto the bed and slipping off his clothes.

“Babe I’m not in the mood-” Marc was cut off by Nathaniel chuckling, “That's not what we are doing.” Nathaniel responded, gesturing to the bathrobe on the bed.

_ OH!  _

Marc shimmied out of the rest of his clothes - carefully slipping his binder off and sighing happily as the pressure on his chest eased up - and slipped on the fluffy bathrobe. He sat patiently on the bed - fiddling with the end of his robe - waiting for the redhead to call for him.

Right when Marc was about to give up and just knock down the door Nathaniel called from the bathroom, “Ok you can come in now!” 

He rushed to the bathroom and excitedly flung open the door and was greeted to the amazing sight of his boyfriend sitting in a bubble bath of roses, two glasses of wine waiting to the side for them.  _ Thank you rich kid college _ .

Gesturing to the water Nathaniel brought him closer, “C’mere I’ll give you a massage.”

Happily leaning into his boyfriend's touch Marc let every part of his body get scrubbed down with his favorite body scrub and lathered in rose scented wash. He didn’t have to lift a finger as the artist washed his hair - carefully as not to tug at his scalp - and brushed it out.

“Do you feel better now?” Marc 'hemmed’ in confusion, the fingers massaging his scalp and forehead turning his brain to mush.

“I was upset?” The redhead chuckled at his response, rewarding him with warmed hands on his shoulders, pulling the stiffness from them as easy as he could draw a heart.

Kissing the raven’s forehead softly Nathaniel replied “Not at all love, not at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Cinnakin,
> 
> I hope from the bottom of my heart that you enjoy what I wrote for you, you are such an amazing and creative person and I love that I have the fortune to interact with you on a daily basis, never stop being you <3


End file.
